Not My Morning
by Silverwingeddetective
Summary: Q hasn't had an ideal morning...Seriously.


_Posted another so quickly? Amazing, right? I started writing the second half of the other and was like...WHERE THE HELL HAS MY INNOCENCE GONE?! So...this came about. Enjoy dears!_

_-I don't live and England so I really don't know the tube schedule, but bare with me. It was that way to fit in the plot. Thanks. _

* * *

There was a buzzing again. It sounded far away, muffled and continuous. Rolling to his back, Q tossed his arm over his eyes. With a groan, he looked over at his bed table to check the time. He pulled a puzzled expression not seeing his alarm clock. Where in the hell would it—

The buzzing sound.

It was coming from under his pillows. Sheepishly, he supported himself on his elbows to pull it out from under him. The buzzing changed to a blaring racket. Before switching it off, he checked the time.

8:43 am

Cursing, he flicked the alarm off and darted into the bathroom. He was late, almost two hours late to be exact. Alright, so maybe spending the entire week monitoring Bond's mission wasn't the greatest decision, but hell, someone had to do it. And if anyone thought he was going to assign an underling to watch the stubborn agent, he might as well shoot Bond himself and save the enemy time.

Q changed into his usual wear; black trousers, a random dress shirt, black tie, and pulled a cardigan over it. Running through his flat, he paused in the kitchen.

Tea. He never went a single morning without tea. It just wasn't safe for anyone.

A small smile graced his lips as he bolted back to his room for his shoes. He had a spare tin of Earl Grey in Q Branch. He could wait another thirty minutes for tea, and possibly escape murdering anyone for their ignorance in the mean time. Grabbing his shoulder bag, he threw it over his head, grabbed his keys, and made is way outside.

Only to be caught in the rain.

"Shit." He muttered, deciding jogging be the only way to not wind up soaked to the bone by the time he reached the tube station.

...

It wasn't terrible, but it was raining enough to be bothersome. His curls were already beginning to flatten around his face. A relieved sigh bubbled from his lips when he saw the tube station entrance before him. Sheltered from the wet weather, Q made a beeline for the tube listing. Rarely was he ever here this late.

Well, damn it all.

Of course, being the genius he is, he could have predicted that less tubes would run after eight, after the morning work rush hour.

The next one wouldn't be in until shortly after 9:45. He glanced at his watch.

It was only shortly after nine.

With a resigned huff, Q braced himself for the rain once more and ran. Ml6 wasn't terribly far, only a few blocks really. The tube was faster though.

He didn't even make it the first block before he was ankle deep in a puddle. The scowl crossing his features didn't even speak for how pissed he was.

...

Walking into Ml6 drenched was not the best idea. Polished tile floors and and wet dress shoes made for a slippery disaster. He fell twice before even getting out of the main hall. Finally, he sat on the floor glaring at his feet. A decision had been made.

Q stepped into his workplace barefoot, soaked socks and shoes being carried in his hand. The expression on his face alone must have been enough for his minions to avoid eye contact with him, their normal greetings traded for silence. Each one forced themselves to be engulfed in their work and if they were currently project-free, they pretended that their desk was the most fascinating thing in the world.

He dropped his bag on his chair and his shoes by the table leg. Turning to the break area, Q grabbed his mug and fled. Ripping open the first cabinet with a grin, he nearly dropped his mug.

It was empty.

He moved to the other cabinet, throwing open the doors and slamming them again. Empty, every single one. Besides coffee and some napkins, there was no tea, especially not the tea had he specifically brought for the rare occasion he didn't have time to make a cup in the morning.

Q returned to his desk, bare foot and empty cupped. Placing the mug down, he glared daggers at his underlings as his computer powered on.

Rolling his shoulders, he took a deep breath.

Okay. He could get tea when he took his lunch. There's no doubt James probably appreciates the tea in his system more than he does. The little market on the corner carried Earl Grey. He'd meet with 007, journey to the market, eat lunch, then come back and make some tea.

Everything would be alright until then. He could wait.

And as long as no one talked to him, he wouldn't tear out someone's vocal cords and jump rope with them.

He just had to be patient.

...

It was nearly noon, 11:28 really. Only thirty-two more minutes until he could make a nice cup of tea. At that notion, he could already feel tension slowly ebbing out of his shoulders.

It was fifteen minutes to lunch when Q noticed someone sauntering up to his desk. Figuring it was Bond, a small smile crept across his lips and he tilted his head up. His smile dropped instantly. Instead of his lover, 003 stood with a shit-eating grin leaning over his desk with his chin on his knuckles.

With a frown, he turned away and continued typing on codes on his keyboard. The double-oh cleared his throat, leering at the younger man.

"What is it you need, 003?" He bit out, trying his best not to sound so venomous.

"I just came to visit my favorite quartermaster." The genius resisted the urge to roll is eyes.

"I'm Bond's quartermaster, go bother one of my co-workers if you need something." His long fingers danced over the keys, trying to belt out the last code keeping him from lunch.

Ten more minutes.

"I was wondering, Q, would you like to get some lunch with me?" Heat rose on the back of the quartermaster's neck. Not today, god don't let it be today. Not this arse. He could not deal with this. Where was Bond when he needed him?

"I—I actually have plans with someone else for lunch." He ignored the slight growl 003 made.

"With 007, I assume." Q's eyes narrowed. Oh, he did not like that tone.

"I don't see how that is any of your business. I'm busy for lunch. If that's all you need, please escort yourself away from my desk." The double-oh twisted his lips in a sneer.

"You know what, Q? You need someone younger. Bond's too old, too dangerous. He'll get shot in the field and that'll be the end of it. But a young guy like me, we're—," Q shot up from his seat, staring down the agent.

"If you even finish that sentence, I'll make sure your gun fire backwards." 003 pulled his body back in a hurry, not noticing his elbow knocking the scrabble mug.

The universe spared no mercy.

Q's long arms shot out to grab the mug, his fingers just skimming over its ceramic surface. 003's hands reached out as well, knowing the mug's importance. Every single minion was on their feet, gaping at the scene.

The mug hit the tiles...

And shattered.

The echoing smash resulted in silence. Q stared down at the pieces of what was once his mug. Crouching, he picked up the still intact handle and stood.

The double-oh glanced around. The quartermaster's underlings all stood with open mouths and wide eyes. Making contact with the agent, they sat in unison, each tech genius trying to make themselves as non-existent as possible in the room. When he turned his attention back to Q, he was glaring full force, death promised in his eyes.

"What the bloody hell did you do, 003?" A voice asked from behind him. The agent stood still, not wanting to provoke the genius. Before he could blink, 007 was holding back a furious quartermaster that was grasping blindly for his throat. Bond pulled his lover against him, arms tight around his waist as Q long limbs shot out and struggled.

"You should leave. Now." Bond ordered the junior agent. 003 turned and ran for his life. Once he was out of sight, Q stopped fighting James' hold. He fell silent, chest rising rapidly from the effort. Pushing away from the double-oh, the tech genius dropped the mug handle on his desk and flopped himself in his chair with his head in his hands.

"What is that?" Bond asked, pointing to the ceramic piece. Q moved one hand, gesturing to the floor. Looking down, Bond saw the scattered pieces. Leaning over, he picked up the major pieces and set them on the desk. Noticing Q's slight shaking, Bond turned to the room. The underlings fled the room under his silent order, more like his piercing gaze. It left only James and Q in the Branch. Placing a hand on the back on the chair, he spun it slowly away from the desk. Q pulled his body back, but left his head drooping. Bond dropped to a knee, a hand cupping the younger's jaw.

"I take it that you haven't had a good morning." It wasn't a question. Q shook his head negatively. A warm liquid hit his thumb. Definitely not good morning.

He tilted Q's head up so their eyes would meet. His quartermaster's eyes were slightly red, a few silent tears making their way down his cheeks. James wiped them away with his thumb pads. He moved his hand to card through the dark curls.

"What's wrong, Q?" James asked gently, prompting the younger to speak. Q shook his head once more. The blond strained his neck to place a kiss on the other's temple.

"Q, tell me." With a sigh, Q wiped at his eyes.

"I woke up late, missed the tube, ran here in the rain," At that he pointed to his still damp footwear under his desk, "haven't had any tea, and 003 pissed me off with his nonsense flirting which led to him knocking over my mug. I know he didn't do it on purpose, but... my mug. God damn it, I'm just so frustrated." James kissed his temple again and stood, pulling Q up by the wrist.

"Terrible morning then?" Q gave a small turn of the lips.

"I've had a shit day." He replied. Bond smiled, tugging him from around the desk.

"Well, we're going back out in the ran, so you should put your shoes on. Yes, I do have an umbrella." Q quirked a brow.

"Where are we going?" He asked, taking a seat on the floor to quickly slide on his shoes.

"First, I think we'll stop to get you some tea and lunch. Then, we'll head to the shopping centre and pick out a new mug. How does that sound so far?" 007 explained, waiting for his lover. Q stood and dusted the seat of his pants off.

"Absolutely brilliant, really." With a chuckle, the double-oh motioned for Q to lead the way. Instead, Q slung his arms around Bond's neck, one hand sliding into short hair. James smiled into the kiss, hands finding their way to Q's slim hips.

"And later I'll give you a proper thank you." Bond's smile widened and pulled back a bit.

"Are you sure we can't do that first?" Q pursed his lips and pressed a kiss to the corner of James' mouth.

"Perverted old man." Q quipped.

"Cheeky tart."

* * *

_Hope that was satisfactory. I rarely write fluffyish things. Bonus points if you find the song reference. Hint: it's Pink. Well, I also have an Ao3 now with the same pen name (twisted_savior), so you can look me up there are well. All the stories are the same really. Also, find me on tumblr. Same name: twistedsavior. Thanks for reading. :)_


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